This week, Rob and I were supposed to be in warm, sunny Myrtle Beach.
Unfortunately, due to several circumstances beyond our control, our trip was cancelled, and the two of us were scrambling to think of where else we could go. At this last-minute juncture, we were priced out of a lot of options. So we decided to drive north and have an outdoor adventure.
Let me repeat that just so it's clear. We went north. In Michigan. In March.
I can’t begin to tell you how snowy and muddy this vacation was. At one point, I was on a really difficult hike in the woods, and I was cold and wet and exhausted, and I was like, “What am I doing here? I was supposed to be inMyrtle. Effing. Beach.”
I was legit bummed. And frustrated. So I got out the balloons, the cake, and the streamers and I threw myself a pity party. And not just a little one, but a big one where I invited the Universe and told it how much trouble it was in because this wasn’t the story I had written. Did it not read the story I’d penned about sun and beaches and warmth?
By the time I got back to Rob, who was sitting around a damp, smoky campfire (he’d literally built it on top of a slab of ice), I was in a state. His attitude was not dissimilar. But as we sat there and talked, we began to pull our heads out of our butts. We got out our erasers and changed the story to be: How lucky are we that we are here, we are together, and that we get to experience any of this at all?
Because the point isn’t that the Universe gives us the story we want, the point is that we make the most of the story we have right now.
Rob and I resolved to enjoy the ever-loving crap out of the rest of our vacation. And you know what? We totally did. We chose to love every remaining second of our time together up north. Here we are, choosing to totally geek out about our amazing hike in the middle of a snowstorm:
For more on how the Hero in any story faces the tension between what they want and what they need, check out this blog post.